


Parallel

by BabyDollDevil



Series: Parallel 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, parallel worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyDollDevil/pseuds/BabyDollDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can travel to parallel worlds, and although they may be different, there's always a Sam there waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel

  
_There are all kinds of love in this world,_

_but never the same love twice._

[(x)](http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/298178-there-are-all-kinds-of-love-in-this-world-but)  
  
—————  


  
There’s two beds in the guest room that Dean and Sam have to share for the night. Two little twin beds and for some reason, Sam is slipping under the covers with Dean. He whispers his name, lays his head down on Dean’s pillow. Their faces are close, too close, and Dean can feel Sam’s breath on his skin, minty with a hint of cigarette smoke. “Dean, are you awake?”

Dean doesn’t say anything, feigns sleep. He’s so tired and this is all too much. This world, with his mother and father, with distant but staring Sam who he apparently doesn’t talk to. Beautiful, beautiful Sammy. Covered head to toe in tattoos and ears filled with metal, but normal regardless. This is normal, this world that he’s not used to. Normal is what he can’t do, so he pretends to be asleep.

“I know it’s you, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean can feel Sam scoot closer, gently pulling on Dean’s shirt to get him to answer. It’s December, and it’s cold, but Sam is so warm. _Why now_ , Dean wonders, because Sam had said about four words to him all day, since he woke up in this world and tried to learn the motions of what this-world-Dean would do.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dean decides to reply, but he still doesn’t open his eyes. They’re too big to both be on this twin bed. Too old to be whispering in the dark with their parents down the hall. “It’s me, Sam, now go to sleep.”

If Dean goes to sleep, he’ll be back where he belongs, with his-Sam in his world, but this-Sam tugs on Dean’s shirt a little harder, relentless. “No, I know it’s you. You’re not _here_ Dean. You’re _there_ Dean.”

It takes a moment for Dean to understand, but when he does, he grabs Sam's wrist and jerks his hand away, sits up in bed and pulls his brother with him. “What do you mean?” he asks, too urgently, and now he won’t be able to act oblivious when he needs to.

Sam’s wrist is trembling in Dean’s hand, his words breathless when he speaks. “You came here once before,” he tells Dean. “When I was a kid. You told me everything.”

Dean curses, kicks himself mentally. He was an earnest child, telling other-world Sams the truth when he thought they would believe him, but never did he come back to the same place and see if they actually did. _There’s too many worlds,_ his-Sam had told him once. _An infinite amount, actually. The odds that you go to the same place twice are almost nonexistent._

Dean lets go of Sam’s wrist and his brother rubs it when he gets it back. Dean turns on then bedside lamp to give them a little more light. “What did I tell you?” he asks, a little softer.

Sam moves his body to sit against the headboard and Dean follows, sitting next to his brother shoulder to shoulder, but not looking at him. He can’t; Sam knows he’s an imposter. He must have known the whole time.

“You said there are worlds and worlds and worlds,” Sam tells him. “And they’re the same as your own, but different. Parallels, I think you called them. And you said that sometimes you jump between the parallels, you just wake up and you’re there.”

Dean nods his head, it definitely sounds like how a younger him would explain things. When Sam retells it, it sounds so simple, but it’s not. It’s really not. He wondered how many Sams he had trusted with that information over the years, how many believed.

“You told me that you were a hunter,” Sam continues, staring at the side of Dean’s face. “That you kill things that would hurt people, like ghosts and vampires and things like that.”

Dean turns to look at Sam and nods again. “How’d you know it was me?”

Sam fiddles with his fingers in his lap, looking so much like an overgrown child. Dean wants to know more about this-Sam, who he is and why. What growing up with two parents in a stable location did to make him not like his-Sam. How the absence of hunting and motels and diner food helped in making him the man his is, with a body covered with ink and still too long hair, who brings five books on a week long vacation to his parent’s house. Who doesn’t even speak to his brother and no one finds it strange. He wonders how this-world Dean fit into this-Sammy’s life.

“I knew it was you because of the way you were looking at mom,” Sam says softly and it hits Dean like a punch in the chest. “Like if you blinked she would float away.”

“Yeah,” Dean replies, his voice shaking. “Yeah that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

It’s quiet in the moments after Dean speaks. Sam just looks at him, anxious and a little awkward. And then he grins, nudging his brother with his elbow. “Do you remember me, Dean?”

He remembers everything, every Sam, every world. He remembers every day spent with every brother, but he doesn’t know which one belongs to this-Sam. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “Tell me what happened, when I came to you before.”

Sam full on smiles now, flashing his white teeth and dimples, and Dean thinks how unfair it is that he is so tempted every time. How he loves every Sam so much that it aches, and there’s so many. They’re all so beautiful and so smart and those are the only things about Sam that never changes. There’s so many baby brothers that he feels spread thin, trying to be everything for every Sam, trying to give a part of himself to every brother before he has to leave them.

“It was summertime,” Sam starts, “and you woke me up and you started asking me all these questions, and, _god_ , I was just surprised that you were even in my room, let alone talking to me.” He laughs, but it sounds sad. “We ate breakfast together at this restaurant I never even noticed before, Joe’s Place. I used to eat there all the time after that. And then we went to the movies and saw Independence Day, I still have the ticket stubs. And that night mom and dad let us set up a tent in the backyard.”

Dean can’t look at Sam. He remembers, and how could he forget? He knows what happens next, wonders if Sam does too or if he’ll even mention it. Wonders if Sam has blocked it out or if Dean ruined him.

“You kissed me,” Sam says. “You _kissed_ me, Dean, before you left. Do you remember?”

Dean sniffs a little, trying to find the courage to look back up at his baby brother, and when he does, Sam is still staring, grinning a little, but worried, waiting for Dean to answer. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I remember, Sammy. I just needed some reminding, is all.”

“Everyday I think about you,” Sam admits, his feet fidgeting a little under the covers. “What you’re doing, if you’re still hunting. If you’re still alive.” Dean starts to reply, but Sam stops him. “You _saved_ me, Dean. I was a miserable child. And that one day you loved me more than anyone ever has in my entire life.”

Sam looks like he’s about to cry and Dean feels like doing the same. How could here-Dean not love the this-Sammy he’s know him all his life, when he is aching for the man is just this short of a time? Maybe this-world Dean wanted Sammy as much as he did. Maybe he was just strong enough to stay away.

“It was worth it just to know that you were out there,” Sam continues. “Even if it was another Sam who got to have you, who got your love, somehow it was still _me_.”

Dean reaches up and holds his brother’s face in his hands, can’t not touch him now, not when he’s coming apart like this. Not when he’s baring his soul to someone that will just up and disappear. “I do love you, Sammy.”

“No,” he says, though he doesn’t pull away. “You love your Sam. I just look like him.”

Dean rubs the pad of his thumb across Sam’s cheek, tries to make it a brotherly gesture, but who cares if he succeeds. “I love _you_. Starving artist Sam,” he tells him with a laugh and his brother gives a little smile back. “Sam who reads books in French for fun. The kid who puts too much butter on his popcorn and feels bad sneaking into the movie. I love you. You’re my Sam _too_ , you know.”

Dean feels weak, tired. Sam does, too. He scoots down and lays his head on his big brother’s lap, and Dean runs his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Do you ever go to a world where there’s no Sam?” his little brother asks, and Dean’s never thought about it before. Sam in any world is just a given. There is nothing, no world, without Sam.

“No,” comes Dean’s simple reply. “Never.”

“Tell me about him?” Sam requests, turning so he can look up at Dean. “Your-world Sam.”

Dean smiles down at him and continues stroking his hair. “He’s smart,” Dean tells him. “So damn smart. Always has his head in a book, like you.”

Sam flushes a little and has to close his eyes to compose himself. When he opens them back up, Dean is still staring down at him. “You’re a little smaller than him,” Dean continues, “but you don’t go around fighting demons, either.”

Dean runs his fingertips over Sam’s clavicle, can’t help himself. There’s words all over this-Sam’s body, and pictures. He wants to memorize every single one. “No tattoos, though,” he manages to say, though he’s a little distracted now. “Well, one tattoo, but not like what you have.”

Dean pulls the collar of Sam’s shirt down a little more so he can finish reading the rest of the words on his chest, traces the letters with his fingers and keeps his hand there when he’s done. Sam lets him, wants more, basks in the attention that his big brother is finally giving him.

“He’s the one that figured this mess out,” Dean explains, even though neither of them are really listening anymore. “Figured out what happens when I leave. He said that I’ll never jump to the same place twice, unless it’s something that is really pulling me back.”

Sam’s heart flutters and Dean can feel it underneath his palm. “So you’re saying that there’s something here,” Sam asks, “something that pulled you back?”

Dean nods his head, runs his hands through Sammy’s soft hair again. “You’re the first Sam I ever kissed, you know. That night in the tent, you were the _first_.”

Sam’s cheeks turn pink again, his eyes glisten a little. “Do you kiss your-world Sam? Do you and him do other things?”

Dean’s stomach pulls, and his throat goes dry. His motions stop for a second before he remembers himself, and then he continues his shallow exploration of Sammy’s skin again. “No. No, it’s not like that with him and me.”

“But you want it to be,” Sammy says, and why is every Sam too smart for his own good? They all know to some degree how Dean feels just by comparing him to their-Dean. Everyone knows but his-Sam.

“Yeah, Sammy, I do. I want that very much.”

Sam sits up from Dean’s lap and gets to his knees beside him, puts his hand on the back of his big brother’s neck and pulls him forward, meeting Dean lips with his own. Sammy is greedy and Dean loves it so much. He licks Dean’s lips, the inside of his mouth, moans so loud when their tongues caress that Dean swears their parents (he has a Mom here, _finally_ , and Dad, together) would be able to hear him if they were still awake.

And, _god_ , Dean would be fine if the first Sam he ever kissed was also the last, because he can feel it in his fingertips, his toes. He can feel Sammy’s chest moving against his own, each labored breath coming out harsher than the last. He can feels his fingers at the nape of his neck, playing with his hair and the knobs of his spine.

Sam pulls back, panting smiling, but keeps his hands on Dean. He can’t let this brother go, not now, not after he dreamed about this for so long. Not when Dean is safe in his grasp. “You can pretend I’m him,” Sam whispers. “You can.”

“No!” Dean growls and Sam jumps a little, taken back by his brother’s sudden change in demeanor. “You’re this-world-Sammy,” Dean says, hands tight on Sam’s bare arms. “You are my this-world-Sammy,” and his words are starting to jumble, but he knows what he wants to say, knows what he means. “You’re beautiful and perfect and so he is, but different. I never want you to want to be him.”

Dean eases up on his hold a little, but doesn’t let go completely. He brings Sam closer to him and kisses his bottom lip softly. “I want _you_ , Sammy. Not because you’re him, because you’re not.” He pulls Sam into his lap, pushes his hands underneath his little brother’s shirt, and just rests his forehead on Sam’s collar bone. He can’t do anything else.

“God, Sammy, you don’t even know, do you? How gorgeous you are, how smart, how fucking sweet.” Dean lifts his head and kisses Sam’s neck, his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I could kill him,” Dean whispers, so close to Sammy’s lips that they flutter together when he speaks. “I could kill him for not making you see what you really are.”

Dean’s hands brush against Sam’s nipples, and he gasps, then jerks, grinding down on Dean’s already hard dick. Dean lifts Sam’s shirt over his head, throws it on the empty bed beside them, runs his hands across Sam’s skin because he’s so soft and warm and here. Dean wants to keep him, show him how special he is, how important, even when his-Dean is back and doesn’t care and there-Dean is worlds away.

Dean tips Sam back, lays him down on the bed that’s laughably small. He turns Sam over and straddles him, nestling his cock between boxer-covered ass cheeks. He leans down, flicks his tongue over the shell of his brother’s ear, and when Sam pushes back against him, he does it again.

“You feel so good, Sammy,” Dean moans in his ear. “God, I want to keep you, never let you go.”

Sam trembles when he says that, nods his head, pretends like it could happen if they both just want it enough. “Dean, I’m yours,” he replies, words pillow-muffled, but Dean understands. “Always been yours.”

Dean pushes his fingers through the hair on Sam’s nape and showers his neck with kisses, covers his shoulders with them, too. His skin is cloaked in ink and beauty marks, little moles that Dean wants to taste, so he does. Sammy deserves this, fucking deserves all the love that he can hold on to, and Dean wants to be the one to give it to him.

Dean trails his tongue down Sam’s spine, his hands down Sam’s ribs. Sam squirms beneath him, ticklish and turned on, pushes up again because Dean’s dick feels so good against him.

Thumbs press into the dimples on the small of Sam’s back, holding him still, holding him together. Dean runs his hands over the curve just below, peels off Sam’s boxers, slides them off his legs and throws them away.

Dean runs his tongue up Sam’s crack, uses his palms to spread him open. Sam whines and tenses, looks back at Dean with his face buried in his ass and nearly comes from just that.

“So perfect, Sammy,” Dean says, lifting up a little. “God, why can’t I stay?” He loves his-Sammy, but he loves this one too. And this-Sam loves Dean back, the way that he needs.

Sam buries his head in the pillow in front of him. He can’t hear anymore, knows he could get drunk on wishes that they both know will never happen.

Dean pushes his tongue against Sam’s hole, getting it spit slick and a little loose, has to hold Sam down so he doesn’t wriggle away. Dean scrapes his teeth over the rim, nibbles the skin around it, pushes his tongue inside Sam, and fuck, Dean can feel him vibrating.

He slaps Sam’s ass, watching him jerk, feeling him buck up into his mouth, and Dean wants to do it again and again, smack his ass until it’s cherry red and hot to the touch, but then he remembers his parents in the room down the hall. His normal parents, and what they would do if they caught their normal son tongue fucking his baby brother? Dean could care less, but Sam, he couldn’t ruin Sam like that.

Dean sits up on his knees and Sam follows, thrusting his ass in the air for more and more and more and how could Dean not give it to him? He slides a finger into Sam, all the way until he’s knuckle deep, and Sam just ask for more. _So greedy._

Dean adds a second finger and twists them, turns them, slides them in and out until Sam’s legs are shaking and threatening to give out from underneath him, and then does it some more. Sam feels so good around him, tight and hot and smooth and Dean can’t get enough.

“Get naked,” Sam says and Dean didn’t even realize he still had clothes on, so wrapped up in his baby brother. “I want you inside of me.”

Dean chucks his clothes fast, throws them on the other bed with Sam’s, and now they’re both bare, flesh against flesh. Dean pushes down on Sam’s back, lays him flat on the bed, and spreads his cheeks again. He gives his brother’s hole one last long lick before settling himself on top of Sam’s thighs, nudging his dick at Sam’s entrance.

Sam gasps and groans, making such pretty noises beneath Dean, rolls his hips and tells Dean that he needs it - needs him and needs his dick. Dean can’t refuse his baby brother, moves his hips a little closer and slips the head of his cock into Sam’s hole.

Sam sighs and relaxes into the bed. “I want to feel all of you,” he whines, so Dean pushes in slowly until his cock is buried inside of Sammy. He drapes himself over Sam’s back, presses into him so that no part of his body is absent them feel of Sam’s skin. He nuzzles the side of his brother’s neck, placing a kiss to a beauty mark there, and damn, he really does have them everywhere.

“You feel so good,” Dean whispers in Sammy’s ear. “So fucking perfect.” Dean pulls out and slides back in, tugs on Sam’s earlobe with his teeth, listens to the obscene little sounds that his brother is making.

Dean finds Sammy’s hands underneath his pillow, twines their fingers together and Sam holds on tight, rocking against Dean with every thrust. He’s shaking and moaning and coming apart, but Dean is also putting him back together again.

He lets go of one of Sam’s hands and turns his face, capturing his brother’s lips in a kiss. It’s slow and messy and Sam is more just panting into Dean’s mouth than anything else, but it’s wonderful. Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oh, Dean,” Sam whimpers. “You’re gonna make me — oh, _oh_!” and Sam is coming, clenching around Dean’s dick, spilling himself between his own stomach and the bed. Dean doesn’t stop fucking him, even with Sam goes limp and pliant.

Dean thrusts into him harder, snapping his hips, making Sam’s ass bounce back every time. He noses into Sam’s cheek, feels Sam’s breath against his ear, and listens to his low, encouraging words. “Yes, Dean, yes. Fill me up. Come inside of me, please. I want it so bad, you have no idea. Please, Dean.”

And Dean comes, since Sammy asked so nicely, and fuck, he wouldn’t be able to stop it if he tried. It hits him hard, knocks him breathless. He’s filling Sam’s ass up with his come and the glide is slick and smooth now, so nice. Dean could stay here forever if he had the choice.

“That was… incredible, Dean,” Sam huffs, when they both have barely caught their breaths. “Thank you.”

Dean slides out of Sam, lays down on his side to face him. Sam’s eyes are heavy lidded and beautiful when he looks at Dean, satisfied and _happy_. Dean kisses him slowly, gives him everything he can, hopes it’s enough.

When they pull apart, Dean reaches over Sam and turns off the lamp. Sam snuggles closer to his big brother, wraps himself around Dean so tight as if that could make him stay. “Stay here with me,” Sam pleads, “as long as you can. He gets to have you all the time. Just - just stay with me a little while longer.”

Dean’s throat is tight and he doesn’t think he can speak, but he makes himself do it anyway. “Ok. I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” Dean promises. “l’ll make myself stay.”

Sammy needs this, needs this as much as Dean does. Dean wonders what will happen in the morning, when he wakes up in his world with this-Sammy’s scent still on him, feel the phantom touch of his other-world brother’s lips on his own. How can he face his-Sam when all he wants is what his brother can’t give him? How can he go on pretending that this isn’t what he needs?


End file.
